


Smile Because It Happened

by icandrawamoth



Series: Love's Oldest Enemy 'verse [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Dancing, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memories, Music, Whump Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Wedge goes to a cantina with a few of the other Rogues. Memories of Tycho are everywhere.





	Smile Because It Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the November/December round of Whump Prompt Challenge on Tumblr. I chose the gamification prompt, which was to find a Christmas playlist and use the tenth line of the fifth song as a prompt. I ended up with "this is their song" from Carol of the Bells.

It wasn't Wedge's idea to go out. He hasn't been in the mood for any sort of socializing since he lost Tycho. He's barely had the energy to do what's strictly required by his job before dragging himself back to his room most days. Part of him knows isolating himself isn't healthy, that he might feel better if he opened up to his friends, but he just...can't.

But when Gavin knocks on his door one evening, all nervous earnestness when he tells Wedge he and a few of of the other guys are headed out to a cantina just for something to do and would Wedge like to come, he finds it unexpectedly hard to say no.

Everyone had left him alone for the most part right after it happened, seeming to understand that he needed time alone to deal with his grief, but now that a few weeks have passed they've been trying again. It's still hard. Wedge would still rather be alone. But he appreciates it just the same, and he just can't bring himself to crush the uncertain but hopeful look on his youngest squadmate's face.

“Sure,” Wedge tells him. “Why not?”

Gavin grins, and soon they're meeting up with Corran and Nawara and taking to the streets. The conversation is quiet, just talk of the day's training and the patrols they've been taking turns running. They keep asking Wedge questions, trying to draw him into it, and he does his best to let them.

The cantina his friends have chosen is a small one, moderately populated. The four of them find places at the bar, and Corran buys the first round. Wedge thanks him and fingers his glass for a moment before taking a drink. He thought he'd feel better once they got here, but it doesn't seem to be helping much. Memories of the last time he was at a cantina like this nibble at the edges of his mind.

Nawara notices a screen in a corner showing a grav-ball game, and after getting out of Wedge that he doesn't follow the sport and doesn't know much about it, takes great pleasure in sharing his extensive knowledge. Wedge tries to follow, grateful for the distraction.

It doesn't last long. On the other side of the room, a jukebox is playing a succession of random songs. Most of them Wedge doesn't recognize; all of them he's been ignoring, paying more attention to what his friends are saying. That all changes when a new song starts, seeming to stab straight into his awareness.

Wedge knows it immediately, and it feels like the music has stolen his very breath. It's a pop song from years ago, simple lyrics where the singer goes on about being driven to distraction by the one they love. Alderaanian in origin.

One of Tycho's favorites.

Wedge closes his eyes. It was always just a silly thing, an earworm his partner had carried with him over the years. Wedge couldn't count the number of times he'd caught Tycho absently humming it under his breath as he worked. He'd always programmed it into his X-wing's computer along with his other favorites to kill time during stakeouts. He'd serenaded Wedge with it more than once to get a smile out of him, and Tycho had even sang it at karaoke on one memorable occasion.

“Comman– Wedge?” Corran asks.

Wedge opens his eyes to find the others looking at him in concern. Wedge indicates the jukebox and says softly, “This was one of Tycho's favorite songs.”

The others are silent for a long moment before Gavin ventures, “I remember.” As Wedge furrows his brow, he goes on, “The night after his trial ended, when we all went out to celebrate. He put it on, and he grabbed you for a dance. At one point he dipped you, and you grabbed onto him because you were surprised, and you were both laughing.” Gavin hesitates, then finishes, “You looked so happy.”

The memory consumes Wedge. What Gavin wouldn't have been able to hear was Tycho quietly singing along to the song as he held him, or in the middle of the dip, the way he whispered, “I'd never let you fall” before pulling Wedge back against his chest, into his arms.

He comes back to himself and sees the way Corran and Nawara are eyeing Gavin like they think he's made a mistake bringing it up, and Gavin clearly thinks they might be right.

“That was a good night,” Wedge says quietly, aiming a little smile at their youngest member. “He was glad to be free, and I was so glad to have him back.”

“We all were,” Nawara agrees.

Wedge nods, looking back down his drink, though he doesn't pick up the glass. “I want to remember things like that,” he admits. “The good times. The bad, too, I guess. I don't want to forget him.”

“You haven't really talked about him since the funeral,” Corran says. “When my father died, I tried to do that too, but I found out it was better to try and be open. You know, to say his name and remember him with other people who knew him.”

“You're right.” Wedge takes a sip of his drink. “He deserves that.”

Corran puts a hand on his arm. “You deserve that.”

Wedge falters, tears suddenly threatening, and though he just manages to blink them away, his voice is rough when he says, “Thank you.”

Corran squeezes his arm then takes his hand back. “Anything you need, boss.”

It's a slip, a thoughtless reference to his old position, but it makes Wedge feel a little better just the same. More normal. “He'd hate this,” he says. “The whole squadron thrown into chaos because of him. He would never have wanted that.”

“You'll fix it,” Gavin says firmly. “Six months, like you said, and you'll be back in command. Everything will be back to normal.”

“As normal as it can be,” Corran corrects, eyes on Wedge, and Wedge nods silently, so grateful to know that, on at least some level, they understand.


End file.
